and then there is nothing
by Nollaf
Summary: As an old cat staggers into SkyClan's camp, the cats are all left stunned as she delivers a message seemingly from StarClan itself, only to die as she finishes speaking. Each and every SkyClanner is pushed into a turmoil they have never expected to face and they must stick together or face death. Only this time, there is no certainty in death.
1. THE BEGINNING

It is leaf-fall, the time when leaves fall from trees and hide both the threats and the help. There is wind and rain and the occasional frost on the ground, covering every surface with miniature stars that glitter almost maliciously in the dawn light.

There is a cat - a single cat, no more than that - who treks across the cool grass, disturbing leaves and frost as she goes. It is almost as if she does not care for the tiny stars (_gifts from StarClan,_ her mind whispers tauntingly) that she tramples and melts, creating patches of bare ground with only the melted dew of the frost to soak into the ground (_disappearing for ever and not coming back,_ her mind whispers tauntingly) in silence as they, at least, accept their fate.

The feline moves on, haunching skinny shoulders against a chilling wind that has blown up. Her step barely differs - it is limping and exhausted and staggering - as more weight is taken by her forepaws. She does not look up at the sound of the shrill call of the birds in the trees, watching her nervously. She cannot reach them. She will not reach them. She does not deserve to eat, not yet. She must not pity herself for her losses.

There is still her mission, even with no one to report back to. She must carry on. She must be sure to deliver the message, to get there in time. She knows this is her punishment for her crimes. She was never expected to live much longer than a quarter moon into her journey, much less than those who still hold onto her loyalties like moths to a flame, even if there is no real reason for her to be loyal. Not anymore.

Letting out a harsh, rasping laugh, the she-cat claws a lump of soil from the ground and sends it flying into the trunk of a tree and splintering into a thousand irreparable pieces. Nothing left for her.

She surprises even herself by the sob that tears out of her throat. She thought she had her mourning out of the way. She wishes things were back to the way they were before, when she was a kit and there was nothing to worry about other than what to play or how to sneak out of camp. She swallows the next sob, blinking away the tears and stepping more deliberately.

She promised. She must continue with the mission, be it worthless or not. StarClan, she doesn't even know if these cats are still alive or not, but she'll continue. If anything, she's never broken her word before and she isn't about to start now.

As she travels further into the day, the sun rises in the sky and she desperately hopes for a river or lake or even a dirty puddle to appear near her. However hard she pricks her ears, she cannot hear the sound of rushing or lapping water. There is nothing here but the burn of the sun and the sand and the ripping of her paws against sharp stones.

The cat turns to look back at the way she has come, not at all surprised as she feels her head spin and sees the patches of blood from her broken pads on the hard and unforgiving surface of ancient rock. It has been there longer than her ancestors have walked this earth and will be there for many more moons after her last breath.

She lets out of shaky breath and breathes in, suddenly turning back to the trail ahead of her and pacing forward at a faster, more determined pace than before. She can smell something on the wind and it is not prey or enemy. It is the scent of many cats.

The scent is just as she has been told. It fresh and it is soft and it is healthy. It is the scent of her final destination. In her heart of hearts, she knows this will be her real finale (_end game,_ her mind whispers tauntingly, the only way it seems to whisper these days) and she is not afraid. She will not bow before her mission is complete.

The boarder is as clear and fresh as the scent and she does not hesitate to cross it. However, once inside the marked territory, the feline pauses, frozen and stiff as ice, as she takes note of her surroundings. This is not like it was before; it is not unclaimed or allied territory. It is claimed by cats she does not know and, although she will never show it, she is afraid and unsure and she wants to go home to her brother and mentor but she can't because it's all gone and she isn't so she needs to help because there must be a reason and there can't never not be a reason... right?

Quiet as a mouse, the she-cat winds her way through narrow paths, following the recent scent of a returning patrol. There are no more than five cats on the patrol (three warriors and two apprentices, she registers with a thrill of uncertainty that she has not felt since her first escape from camp as a kit) and they are not far ahead of her. Their camp is near, she notices, glancing at the thinning foliage and feeling nerves coil in her belly like a snake getting ready to strike.

She carries on, exhaustion and torn pads forgotten in the growing excitement of finding what has only ever been described to her in stories herself. She stops suddenly, amber eyes glowing at the sight of the gorge and the gathered cats inside and takes a deep, settling breath to steady herself for the way down. So this is it.

The cat limps down the narrow paths, head low and ears flattened and she disturbs several pebbles with a badly misplaced step. She barely freezes as the cats she is heading towards turn to face her, surprise and threats and maybe even fear on their faces. She doesn't flinch, doesn't cry out or make a sound as her paws slip and she falls with a thump to the unforgiving ground beneath.

The rush of paws and touch of fur and rasp of tongue is lost on her as she struggles to sit up, ignoring the sharp pain of broken bone and torn flesh in favour of the completion of her mission. This is it.

She pushes away the tentative paws of who she assumes is the medicine cat apprentice, bats the herbs from some tom she thinks must be the medicine cat and turns to the cat who is introducing himself as the leader and speaks, interrupting him. Her mission is finally done and a weight lifts from her as she allows her head to drop onto the ground and she thinks something in her face breaks but she can't be sure because -

Because she's floating and there is no hurt and she's young and carefree and there are no ancestors like in the stories, just the lack of pain and fear and then there is nothing, not anymore.

**I'll be needing character suggestions so don't feel afraid to post a review or send me a private message with a character form that includes the minimum of name, appearance and personality. I also wouldn't mind some suggestions on how to improve my writing or any mentions of mistakes I've made.**

**Disclaimer: Warriors does not belong to me and neither do any characters that other people have suggested. However, this story belongs to me and copyright is unacceptable. Seriously. I'll _get_ _you_ if you try anything.**


	2. THE NOW

He flinches at the sight of the gnarled face and ungroomed pelt, seemingly frozen into the steep rock face that leads down into camp. But no - the stranger is not frozen at all and his breath catches in his throat as the thought comes to him that only a SkyClan cat can make the difficult climb down the hidden trail into camp and, almost as soon as the thought forms itself in his mind, the stranger's paws slip out from under it - _her_ he notices, unused to the sight of any cat so untidy, let alone a she cat - and the Clan watches with baited breath as the stranger plummets down from the sky and lands with a dull thump on the hard rock surface that lines camp.

He rushes forward, delicate ginger paws carrying him effortlessly towards the stranger - _intruder? _\- and the apprentice feels his mentor and leader start on his tail after a stunned heartbeat. The rest of his Clanmates are frozen, stunned into silence by the unexpected visitor. He is glad he is not one of them, one of the crowd that cannot help anyone in this situation. He is glad of his choice to join his mentor in caring for the Clan in more ways than just fighting. After all, who is there but the occasional rogue to fight?

He has reached the crumpled body of the old she cat and nudges her back down to the ground as she tries to heave herself up. She is almost on autopilot, it seems to him, not quite with the world and yet not quite gone. She shoves him away, roughly, and he is amazed.

She surely must be a warrior of some sort if she refuses treatment so bravely.

By now his leader and mentor have joined him at the stranger's quivering side and again he is struck by the feeling that this cat is more than some foolish rogue come wandering into the very heart of their territory. Perhaps it is the glint in her amber eyes, the way she bats away the herbs and zeros in on the leader with just the barest of nods to him.

His leader goes introduce himself to the strange warrior, but she opens her mouth and summons words so quite and weak that the three of them could barely make them out.

"I do not care for your names," she hisses, mouth opening slightly to reveal rows of sharp, yellowing teeth. "I care only to complete my mission and complete it I will." The stranger pauses in her words, straining to bring her front paws under herself. He cannot help the rush of breath that claws its way out of his throat at the site of white bone splitting through the flesh and brown, dirty fur. She carries on, regardless.

"StarClan has fallen," comes the faint whisper from the weakening she cat, although her eyes are glowing as her load seems to lighten, despite the heavy feeling that settles in his own heart. "They fell moons ago by ancestors long forgotten and feared, ancestors who have powers stronger than we can imagine. You," she addresses, staring at each of the three cats in turn with her clearing eyes, "are the last surviving Clan."

She lays her head down, amber eyes finally dulling and closing, and her breathing is shallow. "We failed you, moons ago, and for that I am truly sorry, but this is your fight now and I hope, if only for your own sakes, that you do not lose this battle as we did." Her breath teeters and the apprentice realises his breath is as shallow as hers, and then it just stops.

He lets out a long, shaky breath that ruffles his ginger pelt and turns his wide-eyed gaze on his mentor.

His mentor is quiet for a moment, striped tail twitching in the dirt before he presses forward to check for any breath - any hope - but there is none. He turns to him then and speaks, voice unsteady. "Foxpaw," he murmurs quietly, surveying the frozen Clan around them, "we must take the body into our den. She needs to be prepared for her burial and then I must speak to StarClan."

There is doubt in Foxpaw's mentor's heart, for StarClan has been silent for moons now. He hopes in vain that what this passed stranger has told them in incorrect, but he is sure any hope is futile.

Foxpaw has not yet made a move and is instead staring at the body. He is overwhelmed and frightened. The day was not supposed to turn out like this. It was supposed to be as every other day had been: normal.

"Foxpaw," his mentor urges and brushes past him to grasp the scruff in his jaws. He begins to drag the bloodied body towards his den and is relieved when the apprentice comes to his senses and rushes to help him, tugging on the scruff to help him pull her into the dark recesses of his den.

His green eyes glint in the darkness and he opens his mouth. "Hawkeye, what did she mean?" His voice is timid for once and Hawkeye has no reply. He opens his mouth to say that he doesn't know, but he is interrupted by the tugging of fur on thorns as their leader stalks into the den.

There is a nervous energy to him and Hawkeye thinks that Cliffstar reminds him of the leader's own son, jumpy Rabbitfur who is the complete opposite to his father. "Hawkeye, Foxpaw," he greets above the noise of the confused Clan, leaving the members behind him with a swish of his tail and the drop of the trailing bindweed.

A moment later, a pretty white head pokes its way into the den, drawing the rest of the well proportioned body in after it. The white she cat doesn't waste a moment with pleasantries, golden eyes raking her Clanmates and the lifeless body at their paws. "Well," she demands, voice quiet and pretty and quite the opposite of the expression on her face, "who wants to tell me what's going on? I just got back with my hunting patrol only to find blood on the floor and a noisy Clan with no official present."

The apprentice stares at his paws, drawing his tail around them as he notices the drying blood speckling the fur there. His mentor mirrors his appearance and the two medicine cats are silent in their uncertainty.

Cliffstar turns to face the petite she cat and his tails brushes over the cooling body lying on the floor and all four of them wince. "It seems," he starts, stepping away from the body. "It seems that we have a problem." At the expression on his deputy's face, he hesitates before continuing. "This rogue -"

"Warrior," comes the quiet interruption from the medicine cat apprentice. "She was a warrior, not a rogue."

"This warrior came into our camp and said that StarClan has... fallen." The leader frowns to himself and turns just as the white deputy speaks to the others present in the den.

"StarClan fallen! That's ridiculous! Hawkeye? Foxpaw? The two of you are medicine cats, or at least _in training _to be one. Tell me what's really going on! StarClan would have told any of you here about any problems, right?" She lashes her tail furiously, although there is fear in her heart.

Foxpaw is surprised when Hawkeye speaks. "I haven't heard from StarClan for moons, Cloudyfoot, and Foxpaw hasn't either. They've been silent for a long time, but we didn't think it was because they'd fallen." No, they'd thought that perhaps it had been the secret the two of them had been keeping for another Clanmate that had caused StarClan to ignore them. Never this.

Silence falls over the den then, for neither Cliffstar nor Cloudyfoot had any reply to that. Fours pairs of eyes are drawn to the lifeless body between them and Cliffstar sighs, tail hitting the dirt and shoulders falling forwards. "Clean the body. We'll give her a proper burial when the moon has fully risen."

He makes to leave, but Cloudyfoot's resigned words stop him. "What do we tell the Clan?"

The large grey and white tom, who was so powerful in battle, seemed totally helpless at the thought of facing the Clan. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves before replying. "We tell them that a war is coming."


End file.
